Shots
by Garo
Summary: Unsolved feelings, bad choices and a plateful of shots. A man like Iron Bull doesn't miss opportunities and the Herald of Andraste misses someone else. InquisitorxCullen InquisitorxIronBull. Rated M to be safe.


Disclaimer! Do not own Dragon Age or any of it's characters. R&R everyone, I'm thinking of writing another chapter.

Also, the moral of these characters might seem a little, _odd,_ but I like to think that everything isn't always black and white.

* * *

She was sitting at the corner table in the only tavern that Skyhold had. The much praised Herald of Andraste was maybe more suited getting drunk in her own quarters, but at this moment the inquisitor couldn't give a damn. She was investigating the three shot glasses, that she had flipped bottom side up, mostly to be sure that they didn't contain any more liquid. Why did she chose to go out in the open, from the comfort of her royal solitude, was a somehow topic of a debate. Some say, that she wanted to be around those who she fought to defend, others implied that she simply already spent too much time alone, doing dangerous Herald stuff. But in this particular evening, the reason was neither. She had picked this place as an ideal place to just sit and think. And to drink, of course. She was never one to underestimate the power of strong drinks, and the subtle influence they had to one's line of thought.

Her mind was stumbling on various subjects. Some of them naturally involved the Skyhold, its people, Corypheus, end of the world and killing all that is bad and evil. It also contained thoughts about her missing pair of socks, the name of the beer that Varric had once recommended and why on the maker they had to stop and pick those elfroots every chance they got. She just couldn't understand how plant so ordinary, almost classified as a weed, could be useful. But then again, that is why she had advisors.

And then, there was the thought of Cullen. She felt herself foolish and curious all the same time, when her mind wondered to that shiny haired, pretty boy Commander of hers. She had sided with the mages, of course, as she was one. Then again, part of her was playing with the idea of siding with a certain templar. As they first met, she had thought him as a skilled commander of his troops, but as a man he struck her as sweet, nice and maybe little dull. As all of that still held place, she was starting to think him as also clever, cunning, caring and passionate about their case.

But if someone had asked her a year ago about her perfect idea of a man, she would have answered without a hesitation. There were a certain Qunari in her camp, who, at that time, she wouldn't have resisted. Thoughts had escalated into long, interested looks from both parties, and heated breaths in the corridor, as the man was whispering demanding offers into her ear. At that moment her stomach was flipping, and till this day she really wasn't sure how she had controlled herself. Because she really didn't have a problem with being little promiscuous, her work was to be inquisitive, was it not?

Bull or no Bull, it had nothing to do with the current situation with this Rutherford. She knew there had been shy looks, smiles even. She didn't really like the idea of tipping and toeing around the subject. She was more of an action kind of gal, and Bull had been good at that. All she was required to do was a hint here and a hint there, letting him understand what he already wanted to understand. It had been obvious how Bull had wanted her, and she had simply allowed it. Because non surprisingly she had come to find Bull in her room, on her bed. But it didn't go anywhere from there. Situation, if you can even call it that, was not the same with Cullen. Because he didn't think that she'd ever suggest such a thing. Problem in all this was that Cullen was too polite for her certain delicate needs and Bull had been everything she needed at the moment. She let out a sight. Well that was probably the end of it, and she didn't really remember why she had called the whole thing off with the Qunari.

But Cullen, the thought that had her all messed up, was that he was loyal. His actions spoke volumes, his moral was admirable, and the more time she spent with him, the more she'd grown to respect him. And it really didn't help the situation that she was starting to notice his very fine build figure, which was leading to this unspoken, terribly compelling need to be close to him, feel his breath on her, feel his _weight_ over her, the mixing feeling of feelings telling her how it was oh so very very wrong, and how it was feeling just a little too-

"Drinking all by yourself?"

She glanced up, annoyed by the interruption of her delicious thoughts and the way they were heading. As she probably had to cast aside daydreaming about her advisor and how they could aid her even better, she had to force on a smile, that normally came genuine.

"I'm counting that there's now two of us, so the answer would be no."

Bull cast her an amused smile as he pulled out a chair, for him to sit directly opposite the white haired inquisitor.

"So, what the two of us are drinking, then?"

Inquisitior smirked, and waved at the shot glasses in front of her.

"Apparently some kind of shots." She turned from the table to wave at the bartender, "ten more!"

Qunari let out a laugh. "I like your style."

Then his eyes were on her, and the moment later they wondered a little too low. Woman opposite of him wanted to change her position, but found herself to be a little too drunk to be really subtle about it, and besides it she didn't really care that her mercenary felt the obvious need to go straight on and stare at her chest. The amount of money she'd give if her commander had the discreet morality of this Bull. She had the sudden shiver to see where this would be going, and at the same time felt repulsion for her own actions. She could just pick up Sera for all the difference it did to her damaged state of mind in this subject. This was a scratch that only a certain blond could help with.

"I can see your devotion of liking my… style."

Bull let out an another laugh. He laughed a lot. The inquisitior didn't know if she liked that or not.

"Only way I know how, Boss. Just keeping you reminded to get your money's worth from the famous Iron Bull."

The inquisitor had to laugh too. For his words, and for the one's that popped into her head.

"Ah, so you're practically saying that you're no better than a common streetwalker? That's a shame, it's just too cliché to be selling both spying abilities as the one's I'm surely informed you have in that bed of yours."

The look that Bull gave her was somehow insulted and cracked up at the same time.

"Well my bed, your bed, tables, floors, pretty much everything that floats your boat. Oh, boats!"

The Herald had to shake her head slightly, smiling. She was flattered, tempted even. She admired this trait to be so upfront and simply voice the need that you have. World would be such an easier place with everyone doing just so. Of course as it seemed, this fearless, praised and unique leader of the inquisition was too much of a pussy to be telling about her feelings to the man who probably would be turning her down in the politest way possible. For a moment she was considering finding and beating Corypheus right here and now, that she could go and off herself after it. Luckily for her, the bartender came and offered her a way to escape this crushing reality in a form of ten little glasses, which contained clear, and probably very throat burning liquid. She smiled and nodded to the bartender, who placed his fist into his chest as a mark of respect, and turned to walk away.

"What's off, Boss?"

The question came in a low, and hushed voice. He had noticed, and he cared. But then again it was completely normal, as all of their lives very much depended on her. Her first intention was to lie, and opened her mouth. Closing it she thought about just brushing the question of with a shrug. For a moment she wanted to tell the truth, but for the sake of everyone's well being it passed. She didn't know what to answer.

"I'd tell you, but it occurs to me that I really don't want to."

Well that was the truth.

Hurt by her lack of confessing to him, Bull leaned backward in his chair, and let his eyes study the woman in front of him. He was thinking, weighing the possibilities, and raised his hand on his chin. It was obvious that the only thing keeping him in the table was his newly raised curiosity. The inquisitor was being a bitch, her words only aiming to trigger him, clearly unloading her incompetence at deciding just what the fuck it was that she wanted. Right now she was escaping his eyes by slowly placing a drink before him, and a one before her. Right now what the woman needed, was someone who she could confess to, help her to get rid of the doubt in her gut, someone to tell her that everything was going to be alright and well again and take the drink away from her hand.

Shamefully, the Qunari wasn't the one to do that. He took the drink in front of him, and poured it into his mouth. As a promising sign of its effect, it burned all the way going down. He watched as the Herald performed the same procedure. He smirked.

* * *

It was wrong. The inquisitor's mind was screaming all kinds of protests, it pleaded for her to abort the mission, to stop everything she was doing and run fast and run far. She knew she didn't want to do this, her mind was clouded by the toxic that was running through her veins. She tried to examine the mixed feelings her mind was giving her, as she ripped the shirt that was oddly covering her mercenary captain.

She didn't fully understand how she'd end up on her quarters, to undress his former drinking buddy. The man she'd turned down too many times before. Her hands were busy ruining that shirt, probably the only shirt she's ever seen him use. And it had to be today. His hand was sliding down her back, hard. His other hand was in her hair, kissing her fiercely, promising and demanding. It felt good. He was warm, she was pushing herself against him, their mouth colliding hot and wet.

They had stumbled their way up to the room, her heart missing couple of beats. Her hushed moans filling the air. Why was he letting her do this was pissing her off a little, and she avenged the thought to his shirt, that finally came in half, letting her glimpse the wonderful abs on his stomach. Her back hit her bed more roughly than she'd have cared for, but it was least of his worries. Bull was standing in front of her, shirt ripped and his breath fast from normal. He had the expression of determination on his face, his eyes full of need for the things he for so long wanted to do to her.

"Bull, what the fuck we're doing?"

She forced the words out of her mouth, her eyes locked into his. She wondered how easy it would be just to give in, just surrender to him and go with it. Wouldn't be half bad, she guessed.

"We're about to fuck."

And then his weight was on her, his knee slowly moving up to separate her thighs. She pushed back, her back coming off from the bed, his hand slipping under her. His mouth was on hers again, their lips crashing in a way that only this bizarre moment could enable. Suddenly there was nothing right and everything wrong. The inquisitor felt panic shoot up her spine and she opened her mouth more, pushing the Qunari off of her for a smallest gap. That was enough, for her to form up words, to explain and to clear up her mixed signs. She went for a whole sentence, but she found herself capable of only one, desperation bleeding exhaled word.

"Cullen"

Bull stiffened, and the Herald closed her eyes in shame. The bed creaked as the weight of the man was left from it. Inquisitor rose to sitting position and wasn't sure if this was what she wanted after all, and opened her eyes to see the back of the leaving Qunari disappearing into the staircase. She run a hand from her forehead to her hair, in distress. The situation weren't helped by the room slowly moving in her eyes. She was visibly surprised to voice she hadn't expected to hear in many weeks.

"The fuck's wrong with you!"

As it came out, Iron Bull wasn't really happy with the turn that the night had taken. He had climbed back up the stairs, and stood there with a enraged expression on his face. The Herald guessed he wanted to bash her decision making skills, and was partially agreeing with him. She didn't care to look at him for long, as she was too embarrassed for herself already.

"Let's get this straight once for all. You – can – not – come goddamn bleeding for me to take you, I've got enough of this bullshit!"

The long restrained anger burst in the inquisitor. Not probably the smartest decision she has made, she spitted out words.

"You've the one to freaking come on to me after I've drank the most of alcohol in this bloody hold. I'm-" She was interrupted.

"Come on to you? I'm no saint believe me, but I don't force myself to women without their consent. Which you fucking know I had two minutes ago!"

She knew it was true. He knew he could keep yelling and everything he'd say would be true, hurtful and leave her in pain. Bull wasn't really sure what he wanted to accomplish, he just wanted to make her feel as awful as she's made him. She wasn't really sure where they'd go from here. And neither was he. The Qunari stood taking deep breaths, shaking in anger. He was slowly starting to think that the only good conclusion was that he should literally whack some sense into the woman. She could take it. Would do her good. He took one step forward, and made a fist from his hand. He collected all of his remaining patience and asked the one question that was hanging in the room.

"Does he know?"

The Herald hid her face in her hands. Oh the Maker, get me out of this room. This was feeling more crucially painful every second, and she didn't want to deal with this. Not ever and not especially now. This couldn't be happening. He shouldn't be questioning things he obviously didn't want to hear answers to.

"Oh Maker no, no, no, he does not."

Bull had this weird, scary wicked half smile on his lips. He really didn't want to be here, so why wouldn't he just leave already.

"Maybe he should."

"Just go. Please."

Her plea came out more desperate than she'd planned, but all the same it worked. Without further words, Iron Bull turned on his heels, and left the room. She let out a sigh. She could still taste him in her mouth.


End file.
